Not in the Programmin', Mate
by VendettaSmiles
Summary: Kunsel really should have written his own coding... A prequel for Chaos & Kadaj featuring Kunsel and an origination story for Kenji (although reading Chaos & Kadaj is not necessary to understanding this story as it is written to stand alone).


Not Programmed for that Function, Mate

Kunsel twined the last of the copper wires together and set the needle-nose pliers aside. The much anticipated moment of truth had arrived, and now that it was here, he found himself nervous to take the final step. Instead, he busied his hands putting the soldering iron away.

He turned his gaze back to the workbench and the culmination of weeks of secret labor. He ran a finger along its muzzle and down its back, stroking it like a pet, until he reached the toggle hidden beneath a layer of fur at its base. He flipped the switch and held his breath.

A whisker twitched. Amber eyes popped open.

"I am a genius! Ha! Take that, Reeve!" He glanced over his shoulder. He hadn't meant to be so loud. The building should be empty on the weekend, but one never knew. It wasn't just Reeve he had to be worried about either. Sure, he had stolen certain technology from Reeve to build his creation, but the architect and engineer at least had some morals and, at the worst, would only see him fired.

But there were rumors—more than rumors for someone with Kunsel's hacking skills—of company employees who fell out of favor and simply disappeared. Combined with unconfirmed whispers of soundproofed science labs well supplied with everything but ethics… Well, the conclusions weren't pretty.

Human experimentation wasn't the only rumor going around either. Corruption and scandal ran all the way up to the president of the company. And not just scandals of the bedroom—though there were those too—no, the most worrisome of the president's bedfellows were the figurative ones. Kunsel might only be a lowly member of the company's mercenary army, but his mother hadn't raised an idiot. Which was why he'd stolen the data from Reeve to help him build the artificial intelligence unit: he needed a discreet spy to help him gather iron-clad evidence for his safety net. Then he could finally ditch the company for good.

Amber eyes blinked.

"Hey little guy, welcome to the world," Kunsel said, which was silly, really, because even though the thing looked like a cute little otter, it was a robot. On the other hand, if even _he_ couldn't resist responding to it in this manner, it should do the trick on others as well.

"G'day mate!" Friendly amber eyes blinked up at him again.

That couldn't be right. What was up with that accent? He had designed this model as an intelligence gathering unit. It was _supposed_ to blend in, and it irked him that he had missed a flaw in the programming.

Oh well, perhaps it was to be expected. Reeve had gone through how many models, tweaking and perfecting? If his first try wasn't a complete success, it was pretty close. And no doubt the accent was Reeve's fault—a holdover from the coding Kunsel had appropriated. Hopefully there wouldn't be too many more glitches to sort out.

Okay, time to try the automated components. "Let's see how you move. Model K15, turn in a circle and scratch your ear."

"Nah, mate, why should I be doin' that? My ear doesn't itch."

Kunsel frowned and reached for the unit's processor core.

"Tch, no need to be handsy." The otter scuttled backwards.

"Model K15, initiate manual override shutdown. Authorization code: 3261980."

"Fine, then." The unit closed its eyes and drooped into an inanimate state.

A few glitches then, but nothing Kunsel couldn't overcome with a little more time.

* * *

Anticipation sent little thrills through Kunsel's hands as he unscrewed the bolts holding the vent cover in place. He hadn't had a private moment to work on his project in the last three days and was looking forward to pulling the otter out of its hiding spot and tinkering with it.

He drew in a gasp when the vent cover moved to reveal the robot he'd hidden. He'd been sure no one would bother it in there. Who would even think to check in the vents? Apparently, someone had. His realistic looking otter was now wearing a flashy red cape.

He flipped the switch to activate his creation. "Model K15, who accessed your unit in my absence?"

"No one…"

"Then where did the clothing come from?"

"I picked it out myself while on a walkabout. You likey?" The otter turned in a circle to show off his new garment.

"Who was in here with you? Who turned you on?"

"I did!"

"That's… that's not possible. You aren't programmed for that function."

"Now you're just cuttin' down the tall poppies. It wasn't hard to figure out." The otter paused, whiskers twitching. "Funny thing about 'artificial intelligence,' folks get focused on the 'artificial' and forget about the 'intelligence.'" The otter grinned as he hopped down from the ventilation shaft and surveyed the room.

Was it possible? He should have written all the coding himself and not taken those shortcuts.

"Now, how about some brekkie?"

"You don't have coding for food consumption!"

* * *

"Model K15, where did _that_ come from?" A cowboy hat, really? The anticipation Kunsel had felt for working with his secret project had transformed into trepidation.

"I went shoppin'."

"You can't just go parading around taking things! What happens when you get caught?"

The otter had no idea of the stakes. It was just a robot and couldn't comprehend the risks.

"Ah, boss, you threw away my cape. I had to find somethin'."

Kunsel rested his face in his hands. "I've created a monster."

"I'm not a monster. I'm an artificial intelligence unit," the otter helpfully supplied. "Now about this 'Model K15' business… I need a real name."

"K15 _is_ your name."

Nah, mate, a _real_ name. How 'bout Adam, like the first man?"

"No."

"Boris?"

"That sounds like some kind of foreign muscle. _You_ are not muscle." Kunsel eyed the otter's diminutive frame pointedly.

"Not my fault, yeah?"

* * *

Kunsel's fingers clicked away at the keyboard as he tried to ignore the room's only other occupant. It still wore that ridiculous cowboy hat from the day before. What was the point of confiscating it? The otter would just go scouting for other random wardrobe accessories.

"Cujo?"

Was it on about a name again? "Like a vicious dog? No."

"Doc?"

"You're not a dwarf either. For the last time, you're a _robot_ , and naming yourself is _not_ part of your programming."

"I'm not a robot; I am an artificial intelligence unit."

"You're a robot. Hand me that disk over there."

"Nah mate, 'fraid that's not in my programmin'"

Kunsel glared at the lounging otter before rolling his chair across the room to retrieve the disk himself.

"EDI?" The robot continued in its search for a name as if it hadn't just defied him.

"Are you going through the alphabet?" Kunsel frowned at the message that popped up on his screen. He could access just about anything via a good console, but when a department chose not to place their records on the server, there wasn't much he could do. Was it laziness or paranoia that kept the labs using paper files rather than uploading what he needed?

"Fido?"

"You're an otter, not a dog." Was he really arguing with a robot?

"Genesis?"

Kunsel shuddered. "Definitely not."

Well, there was no help for it. If he was going to collect the evidence he needed against the company, he was going to have to get his hands on those hard files. That meant breaking into the labs—a much more serious infraction if caught than breaking into Reeve's department or hacking the company files.

"HAL?"

He could send the robot in… He glanced at it. If it got caught, he could deny knowing anything about it.

"Igor?"

Kunsel shook his head. The concepts of subtlety and stealth were completely lost on the creature. It _would_ get caught. And then he would be back to square one. Or worse.

On better days, he daydreamed of gathering enough evidence to take the whole company down. On more realistic days, he only dreamed he might obtain enough blackmail material to discourage the company from trying too hard to find him when he made his break for it. A person could disappear in the slums, but only if the company didn't put its hounds on his trail.

"Kenji?"

"Fine."

"Really?"

"Yes. Kenji. _If_ it will get you off my back."

* * *

Kunsel was ready—more than ready—for a hot shower. The mission had been a success, finding and eliminating a group of grashtrikes that had been terrorizing a small village on the edge of the plains. Sometimes his job _didn't_ stink. It was the kind of thing he had signed on with Shinra's military for in the first place.

Now he wanted nothing so much as a shower to wash away the sweat under his armor before it started to sweat.

 _Ping._

Kunsel fumbled for his phone when he heard the incoming alert. Mission Control had better not be sending him out on another mission so soon. He was exhausted.

 _Report to Director Reeve's office. Effective immediately._

What could that be about? Reeve's department rarely had tasks requiring military personnel. And why him specifically? The sweat turned cold against his skin as he stepped into the company elevator.

He'd been so careful. He thought he'd covered his tracks. But maybe not… Maybe the director was on to him. He was _so_ fired.

Or worse.

He could run. But he wasn't ready. His preparations weren't complete. No, he'd have to face Reeve and improvise. At least he was still wearing his gear from his mission. And he still had his weapon. He hoped he wouldn't need it, but if it came to fight, he wouldn't go down easily.

He mechanically pushed the elevator button to take him to the appropriate level. The doors slid shut like prison walls around him.

The director's secretary took one look at him and depressed a button on her desk. "Excuse me, sir. Your appointment has arrived." She waved him through the open door into the inner office.

What he wouldn't give to be back fighting monsters again.

Kunsel stepped through the door. Reeve stood behind a large mahogany desk—a realistic mechanical otter hanging upside down from his hand. The otter gave Kunsel a small wave, its cowboy hat dangling by its chinstrap and a bright red kerchief knotted at its neck.

Reeve cleared his throat. "I believe this belongs to you? I found it snooping in my office."

Kunsel nodded numbly. There was no sense denying it. The sad thing was he really was innocent this time— _he_ hadn't sent the otter anywhere.

But first things first. "Kenji, what are you wearing?"

"Ah, you noticed meh kerchief! Thanks, boss!"

"Very discreet, Kenji."

"Remove your helmet," the director ordered.

Kunsel froze. If he removed his helmet and faceplate, his features would be revealed and Reeve would have not only his name but his description too. It would make hiding from the company much harder even if he were able to escape to the anonymity of the slums.

Slowly, he released the clasp and tugged the equipment away from his face.

When he stood barefaced before the director, Reeve spoke again. "Young man, it seems you've been _very_ busy."

What did one say to that? Kunsel nodded mutely. The director let a silence stretch on between them, and Kunsel stifled the impulse to shuffle his feet.

Reeve stroked the stubble on his chin. "I believe your particular talents may be wasted as a faceless military grunt."

Was that a compliment? Kunsel wasn't following.

"What I am saying is… I'm offering you a place in my department, if you want it. I can have the paperwork for your transfer drawn up by tomorrow morning." Reeve paused, waiting for a response.

Not only was this better than being fired, it was an unexpected opportunity. While still part of the company and no doubt knee-deep in corruption, Reeve's department was less inclined to write off their employees as collateral damage.

"Sir, yes, sir!" He gave his smartest salute.

"'Reeve' will do fine. My department is composed of civilians." Reeve returned the otter to upright and settled him on his feet. "You can report to my office in the morning. Right now you look like you could use a shower and some shuteye."

Kunsel nodded again, accepting the dismissal.

"And Kunsel…" Reeve's parting words stopped him at the door. "This position will afford you some protection, but be forewarned, I can only go so far. If your, _ahem,_ extracurricular activities get you into trouble, there are some webs even I can't cut you free from."

Kunsel nodded without looking back. The otter bounced along at his side as they headed for the elevator.

"What were you thinking?" Kunsel hissed at the bane of his existence.

"I was tryin' to help."

The elevator doors dinged and slid open. They stepped on and the metal box jolted its way downward.

"That Reeve seems loike a decent bloke."

"I hear the Daycare Center is accepting toy donations."

The otter shut up.

* * *

Kunsel dangled beneath the ventilation shaft. It had been simple enough to acquire the lab blueprints from Reeve's department—which had designed the building after all.

He took a steadying breath. He was used to hacking computers, but this cloak and dagger spy business was new to him—the company used their military assets for more straightforward things. They had another department for espionage.

He unclipped from his harness and made his way in the semi-darkness to the filing cabinets along the wall. He pulled a drawer open. It slid slowly, heavy with files. He fingered through them, shoved it closed, and pulled on the next drawer.

An alarm blared through the laboratory. The lights flashed to full strength.

Kunsel turned to see the room filling with men. He felt a sting beneath where his faceplate ended and plucked the dart from his neck. He tried to reach for his weapon, but his hand refused to follow orders.

 _Oops_.

* * *

Kunsel's eyes opened sluggishly and a stale taste clogged his mouth. He turned his head and tried to process his surroundings. Large tanks lined the walls. Astringent smells assaulted his nostrils. He was still in the labs.

He tried to sit up. Was he still too drugged? No, a glance downward revealed he was strapped down to the table. _Not good_. It would have taken several hours for the sedative to have worn off. Sometime during which they had removed his face shield and strapped him down. A red light blipped from above. _Great_. A camera capturing his torture for posterity.

"Ah, our honored guest has decided to join us." 'Scientist' was too nice of a term for the white-lab-coat-garbed individual gazing down on him. 'Sadistic minion' seemed much more appropriate.

He was _so_ dead. His mom would get a nice letter about how he died a hero, and the whole world would forget Kunsel ever existed—except he would still be alive, down here, suffering whatever experimentation the company chose to impose. It was exactly the fate he'd hoped to avoid.

A chime sounded at the lab doors beyond Kunsel's line of sight, and he heard the airlock hiss as they slid open.

"Doctor, you want to come take a look at this? This package is addressed to you," a voice called from that direction.

"What? Wait, no, don't open —"

BOOM. The flash made Kunsel clench his eyes closed and his hearing was replaced with relentless ringing. Fumbling at his wrists drew his attention, and he opened his eyes to witness paws cutting them loose from the table.

"Kenji?" He couldn't hear his own voice over the ringing in his ears.

Paws urged him off the table, and he stumbled, still not recovered from the sedative. It took a few minutes but between his gradually recovering coordination and Kenji's help he was able to follow the otter into a cleverly disguised hole in the wall. He sat back against the other side of the wall and gasped for air.

His mind was still sluggish, moving like honey in a blizzard. He looked at the robot securing the bit of drywall back into place behind them.

"You saved me?"

"Who else?" Task completed, the cowboy hat tipped back and the otter flashed him a cheesy grin.

"But that's not in your programming."

"Artificial _intelligence_." The otter touched a paw to his head.

"We have to get out of here. Escape to the slums."

"Nah, boss. No need for that."

"They saw my face! They'll be coming after me with everything they've got, if they aren't already." He needed to gather a few supplies, but he'd have to make it simple and quick if he didn't want to end up strapped down again.

"I laced that package with a neural inhibitor that will eliminate their memories of the last twenty-four hours."

"But the video cameras! When they play back the tapes, they'll see my face."

"All they'll see on the tapes for the last twenty-four hours is snow."

"But—but how? Why?" It was a machine—a magnificent, brilliantly constructed machine—but it still needed someone to give it direction. "That's definitely not in your programming."

"Meh, I read a book."

"That explains the how but not the why."

"Funny thing about 'artificial intelligence,' folks get focused on the 'artificial'…

"Yeah, you told me, 'and they forget about the 'intelligence.'"

"Nah, boss. They get focused on the 'artificial intelligence' and don't consider what's here." The otter held his paw over his heart—over where his heart would be if he were a living being.

"Hmm…"

"Still… not bad for a robot, yeah?"

"Kenji, _you_ are not a robot. You're an artificial intelligence unit… who also happens to be my friend." He was going to regret saying that, but he'd never spoken truer words.

Too bad he hadn't gotten the file he needed. Still, the mission wasn't a complete bust—he had learned something important.

* * *

Happy New Year!

Vendetta

12/31/16


End file.
